Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Mission Yoga Pants

I've been needing some new yoga pants for a while now. Since I just wear them around the house or to grocery or recycling center, I didn't want to spend much. Alas I am the Bargainista. I kept scouring the TarJay clearance rack but came up short all winter. Even though I wear them around the house, I'm picky. I don't like stripes on the sides, I don't like piping, I don't like pictures or writing on the hips or legs, and for the love of all that is good in this world I do not, repeat DO NOT want writing on my bum. Geesh people the last thing I need is for my arse to look like a billboard.

That said now I must go purchase new yoga pants. Must! Go! Purchase! New! Yoga! Pants! Money is currently not an object as I need these pants to work it! They need to make a dazzling first impression and say confident, smart, capable, motivated, driven, worthy, and rockstar! That, my friends, is a lot riding on a pair of yoga pants.

So I'm off. I need these to be on my body, meaning business, and doing their thing on Monday morning.

I'm off!

Tuesday, April 29, 2008


Two years ago today I married my best friend. There were hundreds of people gathered at lovely state park and there were beautiful flowers everywhere, but I only saw one thing: my groom. He makes me laugh every day. I have fun with him. He has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. He is sweet, loving, kind, helpful, smart, and obviously sexy! He takes care of me, protects me, encourages me, and loves me unconditionally.

Two whole years. It could only be better if were 200.

You're more than a lover
There could never be another
To make me feel the way you do
And oh we just get closer
I fall in love all over
Every time I look at you
I don't know where I'd be
Without you here with me
Life with you makes perfect sense
You're my best friend.

(Tim McGraw, My Best Friend)

Happy Anniversary Crabcake. Cheers!

Monday, April 28, 2008

A glimse into our future

This weekend we had the joy of watching Chicken Bone (boy, 7) and Monkey (girl, 3).

Their grandmother was getting remarried at a gorgeous and swanky Inn here in MyTown so we had kid duty for the weekend. Actually, we had chauffeur and spend-the-night duty. So much easier than full on babysitting and the same pay. I’ll take it!

I picked Chicken Bone up at his school Spring Carnival on Friday afternoon. Wow! Carnivals have came a long way since my hokey days of ring-toss-for-a-pencil-eraser in the elementary school gym. We’re talking DJ spinning Dave Mathews, 35 foot climbing wall, dunking booth, petting zoo, sumo-wrestling pit, several blow up structures/bounce house thingys, sno-cones, cookie cakes, cotton candy, Papa John’s pizza, and fancy booths of games in their own little tents. This also happens to be the coveted school of choice should we raise kids here. Nice!

We arrived at the Inn to get Chicken Bone ready for the rehearsal and his Momma met me with my choice of beverages. Give me your kids, your money, and your liquor, nice! I was going through the dinner line with Monkey on my hip making us a plate when a very sweet woman commented on how darling she was and that she looked just like me. Assuming she was obviously on the groom’s side and didn’t know the difference I just smiled sweetly and said “thanks!”. Who wouldn’t? Isn’t she a doll?

J arrived later and we finally took the kiddos home and whipped them soundly and put them to bed. See? This is what the new Benz was really for.

Saturday was full of the park and baseball games before going back to the Inn to get the kids ready for the wedding. Oh, and forcing Chicken Bone to eat every last bite of his frosted flakes because he helped himself to double the amount before he’d even had three bites and I’m not a wasteful kind of person. He assured me that his mom would never make him do such a thing. And for that I was able to give my favorite reply that I have for children: “Oh, well I’m so much meaner than your mommy!”

The kids were beautiful and precious and fun and all danced out when J brought them home from the wedding. Yes, J as in only him. I was actually off watching another family of children (Boyfriend, Girlfriend, and Bear for those of you playing along). Apparently he sat on the porch with the kids dad and threw back his share of Sweet Water (a new fave in the M house, definitely give it a try). He finally refused further offers because “hey dude—I’m driving your kids home!”

Monkey woke up about 3am with a blood curdling scream so I scooped her out of bed and let her snuggle up with me and J in her parents fabulous king-sized bed. I slept very well but apparently she used J as both a pillow and a spring board.

We had a fun weekend and I love getting to watch the kiddos. The parents love it too. They have a fabulous barbecue business and they make their own secret sauce which is divine and J could practically drink with a straw. The momma told J that if he keeps me from getting preggars and continuing to watch her babies, that she'll keep him in secret sauce. Yes, their biggest fear is me getting knocked up and J is bartering me for bbq sauce.

Thursday, April 24, 2008


My fabulous husband and I are approaching our second wedding anniversary. We have decided that we will do traditional gifts for our anniversaries (last year was paper and we got our passports). The tradional gift for the second anniversary is cotton. I can think of lots of cotton goodies such as plush new towels are fabulous 900 thread count organic cotton sheets. However we have more towels and sheets (all of which are rather nice and not in need of replacing) than you can shake a stick at. And you can shake a stick a whole gaggle of towels and sheets let me tell ya!

A while ago hubs suggested new jeans. Then he went and found himself some good deals on jeans and bought them. I was going to use the opportunity to splurge on a pair of lucky jeans, but since neither of us need them right now I'll refrain. We then though of getting new team hoodies to go with our season tickets (yippiee!!!!!) when it gets chilly this fall. However it's spring time and we can't seem to find any we like enough to purchase anyway. My only other thought is a nice matlasse coverlet for the master bedroom. I think it would look fresh and springy to have have it on the bed and then the down comforter across the bottom. (There are some great ones here and here and here and here.)

However we still aren't sure because I can't make such big decisions. Of course I still uphold that the cotton lined box for my diamond earrings will count, yes?

Any cotton ideas for our second anniversary? Do you do traditional gifts? What was your second anniversary gift or what do you want it to be?

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Offensive Breath

I have an ad sales meeting this afternoon at work. I'm not the sellar, but the target. The target of a product of which I know I'm not going to use or buy but I'm humoring him anyway.

For lunch I had a tuna salad sandwich, garlic crackers, and grapes with cottage cheese. I don't expect this to last long.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

I'm growing up

I had to have my blood drawn today for a new asthma study (yes, I'm a guinea pig) that I'm part of. I told the nurse that I'm a big baby and I should lay down. She spent 30 minutes tying that little thing around my arm which I hatehatehate and tapping my arms trying to find a vein. She checked both arms profusely and said she wanted to get it right so she only had to stick me once.

"Oh don't worry. You will only stick me once! It's a one shot deal."

I think she was afraid.

So she took my blood and I survived. I pictured myself running on the beach and stopping for an OBP and althought I didn't like it and it sucked and I was nervous, I didn't cry. No siree Bob!

Perhaps this means that one day I will be able to have kids after all.

And at the end of all this study schmudy stuff I get a nice $400 check for paticipating. I'd say that helped ease the pain.

I should have had another OBP

Vacation was wonderful and just what I needed. We stayed at the fabulous Gaylord Palms Resort and wowza! was it nice. The inside atriums were amazing. They had gardens, swamps, ponds, treehouses, alligators, a reptile house, a large sailboat that floated in a pond, it was a restaurant that doubled as a night-life bar. There was also a dueling paino bar, a mini-mall, several restauratnts, coffee shops, etc. and some amazing pools and hottubs outside. We also visited my family while we were and that was really nice. My 90-year-old great-grandmother wasn’t nearly as hateful as she usually is. We left just before family time was too much time and visited our friends the LN’s for lunch. It was so nice to see them, catch up, and check out their new condo. We also spent some time at the beach and found a fabulous little beach front bar. It looked like a total dive, and somewhat was, but it had the best food and great prices. It also had a Florida exclusive brewed beer, the Orange Blossom Pilsner, of which we might have enjoyed too much. I think its may favorite ever and you know I’m a fan of the Downtown Nut Brown. OBP was a lot like Blue Moon but with a bit of honey and more orange. Delicious! In fact I’ve decided the cost of the flight is worth it to get more of that good stuff. All in all it was a great trip. With Allegiant Air (and there gazillion taxes and fees) it’s quite affordable and hopefully J and I can skip down there more often. I’d love to see that side of my family a little more.

I did in fact make it to the airport and to the rental car place in time. First of all I’d like to say that Allegiant will nickel and dime the hell out of a person. There is no complimentary beverage service. Can you believe that? With my prime real estate I expected a shot of whiskey (because I’m a good Southern girl like that) and foot massage. Instead I was given a menu with $2 cans of soda. Puh-leeze! Mama doesn’t play that game and the flight is an hour and half including runway time and being taxied to the concourse. On the return trip I requested that the husband and I be seated together so I was bumped from my prime real estate seat to row 33. For you who are curious row 33 is when they use a tow strap and bungee cords and on the tail of the plane. I knew I should have sold that seat. Also J had an actual suitcase that needed to be checked. Do you know what the baggage fee is if you didn’t pre-pay? That would be a whopping $20 per bag! It’s no wonder their actual fare price is so inexpensive. Good thing that was put on the company card since it was for his business trip after all.

When I arrived Wednesday night and approached the rental car area of the airport I didn’t see my rental car place listed. Oh aye! aye! aye! that was bad! I approached another desk and explained my plight to which he replied that it was across the street. I pictured me and my hot pink rolling suitcase sprinting across six lanes of traffic. He said it was just out the door. Well, I did go just out the door. And crossed the little airport street, went down a breezeway that nearly lead me back to Tennessee, crossed another little airport street, meandered through yet another breezeway of which made me chilly as I was nearly in Canada by this point, I rounded the corner and there it was! I didn’t get to me Rah (Rob? Rod?) but I did meet Alex, who brought me coffee and I nearly offered to French kiss him at that moment as it was far past my bedtime and I’d had a long day. But Alex looked like the type to take me up on that offer so instead I just gave him my best Southern Belle thank you. He was baffled that I didn’t want cream or sugar and insisted it was because I was already so sweet. It was then that Alex also tried to upsale my rental car preference. I assured him the smallest, least expensive car out there would do and I got a little wink and “I’ll put you in something real nice.” I refrained from telling him about the jalopy I was expecting with my name on it. I received curb side assistance with my very own G6 that was quite nice (although now the Charger we were upgraded to on a previous trip). It could also get up and go as I was doing 90 and thought I was sitting still. Of course by the time I hit 90 I slammed on the breaks because the stinking toll roads mapquest gave me included seven tolls and $5.50 all within a 40 miles radius. You’re welcome state of Florida. Could you send me a complimentary OBP now?

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

I'm leaving on a jet plane

I'm off to sunny, beautiful, eighty degree Florida tonight. I'm catching a late flight and should arrive to meet my hubby at midnight. He left yesterday for a work conference and I'm going to meet him for the, uh, pool and beach. We'll be back on Sunday evening. Luckily just in time for me to jump off the plane and head to Belk for the private shopping event (where ticket holders enjoy the entire store at 20% discount, even the sale prices!) because I have priorities people!

Because I'm a sweet little wife I woke up bright and early, scratch that, there was nothing bright about five in the morning so it was just early, to take him to the airport yesterday morning. Synopsis of morning: After a forty minute drive home that should have taken only twenty five but I was in the wrong exit lane and couldn't get back over because of the idiot drivers so therefore had to take an extensive detour which did not route me by Starbucks as was the original plan I was on the adjacent street only moments before turning on to our street and thus a mile from the house when pooch hurls in the backseat. For the love of everything good you've got to be kidding me. Luckily his vomit doesn't smell.

After work I went to babysit for a couple of hours. I love Iz and Hut. Iz was only three when I first started watching them and now is going to middle school (boooo hoooo!). Hut was an infant and is now in first grade. He had a big head and lots of slobber. I fell in love with him instantly. How time flies! It was fun to see them for a few hours and Iz made me one rockin' ice cream sundae (moose tracks, chocolate syrup, whip cream, sprinkles) and even gave me a few whip cream shots straight from the can. I know, I'm one A plus babysitter.

That was definitely the highlight of my evening as I don't care for sleeping alone. I don't mind having a few hours to myself because I was able to clean like a mad woman with my music blasting and no one got in my way, less pooch who got a work out chasing the vacuum cleaner. One day he'll catch it, one day! However, come bedtime, I get nervous. Even in light of recent home security drills, I just don't like it. Thankfully it was only one night and J's travel season isn't too bad.

So let's get to the point of this post which is my flight. I booked my flight online and couped the rental car with it for an added discount. I had great flight prices of $49 down and $84 back. Not too shabby. Of course there were taxes, and segment fees (and that is what exactly?), and PFC (yes, explanation please), and security fees, and fees for breathing on the plane, and fees for each finger. Geesh. But do you want to know my favorite fees? Do you? The first would be the $9.50 convenience fee also listed as miscellaneous. This would be the fee for me booking Allegiant through Allegiant. Well golly gee whiz Allegiant. Thanks for the convenience. Because there are tons of other choices out there, right? My second favorite fee, which I didn't notice until I printed the receipt, was the $22 seat selection fee. Uh, scuze me? All I did was click "ok" when you showed me the seat on the littled color coded plane map. I thought seat 12A looked good enough to me. What I didn't know is that it's prime real estate to the tune of $22.

See, what ha-happened was Allegiant Air does not do assigned seating. You can make requests upon arrival but there are no guarentees. However, you can buy prime real estate for the ridiculous price of $22. I'm sure there was a hidden little button somewhere that read "save me my money and put me anywhere!" but even if I'd have found it it would have probably moved when I tried to click it. I'm going to have to sneak around airport poles unloading seat estate on the black market of the tarmac. "Psssst! Hey--hey you! I've go seat 12A going for only $25. Wait--wait---I'll take $24! $23!...."

Do you know what didn't get past me? That was the $5 per bag fee. I was only planning on taking a carry-on anyway because I'm a good packer and it would save so much time. But now I'm 'fo'sho only taking the carry-on. And you're going to benefit Internet. I'm going to give you a crash course on my light packing, just you wait!

The antics don't end there! You simply must hear the rental car experience. Apparently all the places close at 11. My flight lands at 10:50 so that's cutting it close even providing everything goes well. When booking my car with the flight I could save a little cash (which they happily took in fees) and also acutally book a car since all the other sites said my pick-up time was too late. I called the car rental place to double check everything. Let's see how it went.

Car Place (CP): Hey di rah at ala cah how canuh hep ya.
Me: (????) Hi, is this Alamo rental car?
CP: yah.
Me: Ok, Hi there. This is Mrs. M. I'm flying in on Wednesday the 16th at 10:50 and wanted to make sure that you would still be open since the website states you close at 11.
CP: yah we be heuh.
Me: Excuse me?
CP: yah.
Me: Yes?
CP: yah.
Me: Ok, um, I suppose that's a yes. In the event my flight is delayed will I still be able to pick up my car?
CP: jus fola duh udda fudda nie peepuh gittin dey cah too.
Me: Excuse me?
CP: jus fola duh udda fudda nie peepuh gittin dey cah too.
Me: Uh. There are forty nine people needing a car? I just need mine, and that's one car. For me. Mrs. M. At eleven p.m. on Wednesdey the 16th.
CP: we be heuh.

Oh for the love! All I have to say is that Rah (Rob? Rod?) best have me a slammin' jalopi pulled up, stopped parked, rims still spinnin' when I arrive.

(Thanks again Chingy for that great song in which I quote).

Monday, April 14, 2008

Weekends et. al.

J and I had planned on having a night in on Friday night. The weather was nasty and we were tired. Of course then our tummies talked us into some Mexican. Ole!

Sidenote: Old Mexico is nearly always packed so I'm not sure they'd go out of business without us, but I definitely think the sales would suffer. Especially the margarita kind of sales.

I was waiting for J to arrive home and got a call for a last minute babysitter. Ugh! I wasn't really feeling like it but Mr. P said it was later (after dinner) and assured me the kids would be in bed. Besides the P's pay well and you know what? I can lounge on my sofa or I can lounge on their sofa.

I arrived expecting the kids to be hanging from the ceiling like wild banshees. But instead J and I were greeted to a quiet home with beer, wine, and some tasty snacks. We happily sent the P's out on the town. Let's recap: sleeping children, beer, wine, food, and mucho dinero. I'd say it was a good night.

I think I just aged us 30 years: we'd rather babysit rather than go out on the town ourselves.

In our defense we don't have a free weekend until June. Let's run down the schedule, shall we?

This weekend we'll be in Florida. J is leaving in morning and I'll be leaving Wednesday evening. More on that later. We were also invited to a shrimp boil and a wedding this weekend, but will be attending neither.

Next weekend we're actually babysitting the entire weekend. I'll get the hoodlums on Friday night and hang them on the wall until their parents return on Sunday. We start with the P's (2 kids) and then Saturday will add the R's (3 kids). Great birth control and great cold hard cash all in one weekend, what more could we ask for? Oh, and I have an art auction benefit to attend that Sunday afternoon.

The last weekend in April, which in my mind was the 31st, we were supposed to finish our new bathroom off of the den. I've only just realized that that weekend doesn't actually exist and therefore find myself in a conundrum.

The following weekend (May 2 if you're playing along) we have a Derby party to attend on Friday night (fun dress! big hat! MINT JULEPS!) I may or may not have to work at a photoshoot for my job on Saturday. Saturday night we're going to the O's for a graduation and birthday party. Sunday afternoon I'm hosting a baby shower for a girlfriend (you should see the cutest stuff ever I've made! I'll share later!) I'm also hosting bunco later that week.

May 10 I have my sorority alumni meeting, service project, and afternoon sisterhood event. That evening is our Spring Cocktail at a local jazz club. I was also invited to a packing and moving party but that's not going to happen. But isn't that a clever idea? Lure people over with the promise of food and drinks and then while they're there, BAM! give them some boxes and bubble wrap and tell them to have at it.

May 16 and 17 we're going to the Scenic City to visit the O's and Addy, who is finally back in the South. I'm also taking half our house to put in the O's garage sale. Don't tell my husband as it's his half that I'm taking.

The following weekend we're loading up and taking a roadtrip north to the mountains. We'll visit my Pappy and family and also the ever precious Pie and Tart. Then the weekend after that, the last weekend in May J is loading up thirty pounds of goods on my back, sending me five miles into the woods and having me eat and sleep there. Yes, it's the long talked about backpacking trip. Yikes!

Ok so the point is we totally deserved the old fogie weekend, don't you think?

(Check out the latest at The Bargainista).

Friday, April 11, 2008

Home Security Drill

Last week J gave me a "home security drill." It received quite a reaction at The Roost last Saturday night. They all got a big hoot out of having a "home security drill" as he called it.

A few weekends ago we visited J's parents and he brought back his 12-gage shot gun. We have a pistol thingy of some sort around here too, although I'm not sure where, what, or how the heck to use the thing.

You see, I don't really do guns. Unlike Mrs. S who has a family arsenal, I never had a gun in my house. Therefore, they make me a bit uncomfortable. That said I've contemplated buying a small pistol (did you know you can get pink ones?), attending some target practice, and getting a concealed carry permit. I live in a very safe town, but I hear things sometimes and it makes me think I should be better able to protect myself. That said, I also don't want to be paranoid.

J brought the shotgun in and announced that he was going to keep it in the bedroom, our bedroom.


He proceeds to show me how to load the bullets, which by the way are called shells. Yes they are. They're shells.

Then my darling husband gives me specific instructions on what to do in the event I need to use the gun.

"Cupcake, pay attention! First, you shoot the wall and give the (expletive removed) a chance to run. It's a helluva lot easier to repair some drywall and replace a vase than to scrap his ass up off my floors and clean up the mess. Besides, that involves a lot of disclosures and paperwork which I'd really rather not do."

Well, you heard it hear first!

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Tackiest Shower Ever

Last Saturday evening J and I attended a couples shower for a lovely friend of mine. The bride is a sweet girl whom I see at least a couple times per month at our women’s organization as well as bunco and a few other social events. We were all so excited when she and her boyfriend got engaged. The following weekend I had a little dinner party and women of the soiree were quite the captive audience when listening to the engagement story. Sadly, it sucked. We kept waiting for the exciting part, only it sucked. Moving on.

I was very excited and seeing as how I love to entertain I immediately told her I wanted to host a shower for the bunco girls. We were all thrilled. Then I received and email from the bride, let’s call her Jane, because, well, that’s her name. I received an email from Jane with a save the date message for a couple’s shower her friend was hosting. There were only a few girls on the bunco list on that email. At the bottom she put this.

“Shhhh! It’s only your girls from the group. Lovely, fabulous, darling Mrs. M, don’t worry about a shower. Just come to this one it’s going to loads of fun.”

Hmm, seeing as how our “group” sees each other at least twice per month I found it odd she couldn’t throw out a few extra invites as she is inviting 350-400 people to the wedding. A bit awkward I think.

Finally I receive the invitation to the shower. The invitation is dark teal and burgundy colors and is very floral and nearly paisley. It’s hand written on the inside, a fill-in-the-blank style, which is totally fine. Then, there is a picture of the couple at the top with “fiesta” type stickers and also a load of “fiesta” confetti inside. Fine! Not everyone can be the cutsy-tutsy paper crafter that I am and get a total high off of making things on their own that are darling and because I’m a glutton for punishment I made all my wedding invitations, save-the-dates, etc. so I let it slide.

What I couldn’t let slide was the printed and pasted strip at the bottom. It read:

“John would like Bass Pro Shop gift cards or cash for electronics. Jane is registered at Dillard’s, The Pottery Barn, and Bed, Bath, and Beyond. And remember, gift cards are always appreciated.”

(Actually it was worse than that but I cleaned up the grammar and punctuation a bit).

Pick your jaw up off the floor. It really said that! How tacky! People, we live in the South for crying out loud! And I mean no offense to my darling Northern counterparts (Jenny, Rusti XOXO!) because I know they are far too classy and lovely to do such a thing. I’m just saying that the South is known to be a bit more smug, proper, and follow etiquette rules to a T.

First of all, THEY are engaged, THEY are planning a wedding, THEY are getting married. This is not separate Christmas lists. Furthermore does Idiot Hostess think I’m going to go slip John a $20? “Hey Dude, get yourself a nice DVD from the M’s.” Puh-leeze! I instead found a nice teapot they’d (or, um, Jane) registered for from the Pottery Barn of which I received 40% discount (thankyouverymuch!). As a side note, I always pick out something I’d want for myself. You know, in case they don’t walk down the aisle and give it back. I’m just sayin’!

(The registry is a whole other post. I already have a registry pet peeve about some things but the 6,000 in pots and pans pretty much did it here. Let’s just say it made my darling friend look like a greedy snot./end rant).

I call up the hostess to RSVP for the party and left a message.

“Hi (Idiot Hostess) this is (the Mrs. M). I’m calling in response to the invitation for John and Jane’s couple shower. Thank you so much for the invitation, my husband and I are honored to attend. Also if there is anything I can do to help you please let me know. I adore Jane and would be happy to assist.”

It was true. I’d be happy to make dessert, help decorate, clean-up, etc. Especially the clean-up. You know I’m a freak about cleaning.

J and I went on a date that evening and I didn’t take my phone. I returned to a message from Idiot Hostess.

“Hi (Southern Belle whom I could learn from, Mrs. M) this is (Idiot Hostess). Thanks so much for calling. The party is going to be great. I don’t think I need any help right now. I think I have a bartender coming, despite his personal issues ( ?????). There will be a party bucket there so if anyone wants to pitch in with the party expenses that would be great."

Oh. Yes. She. DID! So help me, the South will rise again and they’re all going to open a can of whoop-ass on this idiot! Ok, rule number one of hosting a party, don’t host a party you can’t afford. Rule number two, don’t insult a Southern Belle by suggesting she “pitch in” for a party where she is a guest. Rule number three DON’T HOST A DAMN PARTY YOU CAN’T AFFORD!

Oh friends, you’d think it’s over, but it gets better. Keep reading.

This party has been way talked up. It’s in the evening beginning at 7:30 p.m. and my little crew of guests have been told how amazing it’s going to be and how the food will be delish and it’s being catered, etc. It really appears to be more of an engagement party but “shower” was thrown on to ensure gifts.

We’re stoked despite all the tackiness.

Party night turns out to be dreary, cold, and rainy. Although I’d like to wear my comfy’s all evening and cuddle up with my J, I get all dolled up and head to the “Fiesta”.

We are the first of my crew of friends to arrive. The guest of honor comes to greet me followed by the Idiot Hostess. Let me know just say, seeing her cleared up a lot. A whole lot!

Ring Ring! Lisa Turtle called, she wants her clothes back. Picture overtanned 40 year old skin that resembles a well-worn leather sofa. Dark black hair that doesn’t appear in nature and curtain bangs. Too tight white capris that shouldn’t be worn by anyone. An orange t-shirt with some funky gold design. A white woven, braided type belt with gold something or other weaved in it. And my favorite, white and gold flashy athletic shoes that appear to be baby phat a la T.J. Maxx rejected clearance. Just had to throw all that in there.

Idiot Hostess hands me a drink ticket that reads “one free margarita”.

Yes, I received a drink ticket. At a party I was invited to as a guest.

Idiot Hostess leads me to the “bar” which is a table blocking off the kitchenette area in the corporate break room of her husband’s company. I hand over my ticket to the “bartender.”

Oh the bartender. Let’s just say something tells me his “personal issues” involved an orange jump suit living downtown with bars, and not the kind that serves drinks.

And he reeked of stale cigarette smoke.

When he turned around to get ice for my drink the Idiot Hostess mouthed to me “isn’t he cute”. I responded with a blank stare.

As he was getting my drink, straight out of the $5 Target party bucket with spout, I noticed a taped piece of notebook paper to the table. Sit down if you’re not already.

Margarita’s $4
Sweet Tea $2
Coke Products $2

You’ve got to be kidding me. Seriously? It was the worst margarita ever! Was there even tequila in it? I think it was lime kool-aid and salt. Regular table salt, not margarita/drink rimming salt. Oh, and you have to ask for the lime. AND I DID!

The coke products were in cans. The sweet tea was sitting on the table in a Kroger gallon jug. The entire jug wasn’t even $2. As for the sodas, I think I’d have went to the drink machine and put in my fifty cents.

Let’s talk about the food. You know, the delicious catered food.

It was chips and dip.

Yes, I was invited to a party at dinnertime where I was told there would be food and there was chips and dip. I’d joked that I’d better eat a snack before hand because she’d likely rip the second taco from my hands, but this was beyond my expectations.

Oh, but it was catered from a Mexican restaurant chain, three days ago apparently.

The chips were the large corn tortilla variety that are only good hot, or they’re a greasy stale mess. The queso was so cold it could have been cubed and put on toothpicks. The bean dip was cold and too spicy to eat since I couldn’t get anything to drink (ad if I’d pay!) and the salsa was ok but a bit spicy as well.

After some lame and inappropriate games for a couple’s shower my stomach was about to eat itself and this “fiesta” was more of a “siesta.” The crew and I decided to jump ship and head to a neighborhood Cheers-type bar for good food and alcohol. We trickled out, all by 10 p.m. Siesta indeed!

We arrived at The Roost and gabbed over delicious fried bar food and several pitchers of Blue Moon (that were only $8 each!!!) like the hen house we are about the atrocious site we just witnessed. Even the men chimed up at the horrid event.

I think I need to send Idiot Hostess Mrs. M’s Guide to Entertaining. And also send her back to planet Idiot, population 1.

I don’t feel words do as much justice as my animated and dramatic story telling, but hopefully you understand the complete and utter tackiness.

What’s your worst ever party story? Have you experienced anything quite so tacky?

(Addy—I’ve not been able to catch up to share this story first, I do want to tell you this in person. You and your mother will be horrifed!!)

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

The cookies were good

There is nothing quite like arriving at the office only to realize you are schedule to be in a seminar in about an hour. Lucky for me I was dressed well enough to meet, greet, and schmooze.
The seminar was informative, but a lot of information I already knew. While factual and helpful, it was also rather biased and one sided to the product of the sponsor. Shocking.

I also enjoyed the smooth transition to a sales pitch and the cleverly placed consultant next to me.

I really enjoyed the cookies, muffins, and beverages. Oh, and the part where Mrs. S called and when she asked what I was doing I answered "nothin' chillin at the Holiday Inn". Har Har! I crack me up. Thank you Chingy for the song that allowed me to repeat those words.

(Pssst! Go here and check out some new goodies!)

Monday, April 07, 2008

My kids are going to private school. END! of discussion!

The M’s have been hopping lately and we’ve barely had a chance to sit down. We’ve had a host of social invitations lately and one such invitation makes for a great story which I’ll share with you this week.

We’ve also been busy doing a few spring things on our home. We now have our cute little garden all planted and I’ve planted some of my seeds that outgrew the eggshells. Yes! Who knew I’d actually grow something? Now that they are outside, definitely pray for my black thumb to turn a bit more green.

We also bought the final items to finish our new bathroom. Praise the Lord there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I’ve given my darling husband a deadline of May 10. I have a few social gatherings I’m hosting in May or June so we need this little project wrapped up. Oh, and we had a "Home Security Drill" which I’ll share later this week as well. You won't want to miss that one. Only in the M house!

But right now I need to share my disbelief of a little something I saw this weekend. I was sitting on the sofa drinking my coffee Sunday morning because we're heathens who skipped church, waiting for the sun to appear and reading checking out the weekly ads in the newspaper. I was flipping through the channels and stopped on a new show that I found. Well, I’m sure it’s not new and is probably rather old but since I rarely watch TV, I’d never seen it or heard of it.

So for an episode or three I was glued to the train wreck that is High School Confidential. For the love of all that is good tell me this is made up stuff and that kids aren’t really acting like this and doing those things. I told J no less than one dozen times that afternoon that our kids must go to a secret underground private school with no connection to the outside world and they don’t need to date and get married because I will take care of them forever! and ever and ever and ever!
He wasnt a fan of this idea.

I suppose I’m a bit sheltered and naive from my little redneck high school in the sticks. I thought “bad stuff” only happened on the old school DeGrassi of the 90s, 90210, and My So-Called Life. That stuff didn’t really happen! Perhaps I’m also kidding myself because my little brother (BOO HOO MY BABY BROTHER!) is now in high school. I graduated high school when he started Kindergarten because my parents were planners like that. Anyway, I don’t want think that he is seeing, hearing, or worse, doing such things that these kids were so blasé about.

J and I have often talked about the education of our five* unborn and not yet conceived children. He went to a private school his entire life and is totally on board with it. Well, if we move out of city limits that is because by golly we play one hundred and fifty American dollars per month to live in the great city of MyTown and our kids are going to use every red cent of that tax by going to and loving public schools. So, if we move to the county we can send them to private school apparently. This is fine with me as I've got my sights set on a lovely neighborhood in the "county" that has tennis courts, playground, and a neighborhood only pool and is also partially on the lake. Also, this neighborhood puts us in the area for a fabulous elementary school that is very nice due to the parents having a private foundation to support the school. So, fine by me to move me to the neighborhood whenever you like. All this providing we stay in MyTown rather than moving next year.

Back to the subject at hand now. I know that private schools don’t take away from the world and all that is going on, but I feel like it perhaps will be a more controlled environment with less of the “bad apples” and therefore the less than desireable influences. Now I know kids need to make mistakes and all, but if I can put those mistakes off until college when they just might have a bit more brain in their head and an ounce more maturity, then that's what I'd like to do. I really don't want to "shelter" my kids but I would like for them to have strong direction and limited chances at screwing up before they leave the nest forever. Therefore I'll get them the old school DeGrassi of the 90s, 90210, and My So-Called Life on DVD so they learn from those mistakes. See, I have a plan!

What’s your opinion? Private vs. public? Are they one and the same? How about those high school kids today? Are you in disbelief or am I showing that there really is an old lady living in my body? Have you seen the show?

*Five: just seeing if you were paying attention honey! Kiss kiss!

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Dum Dum Da Dee Dum!

Sound the trumpet! It's here! I've finally opened my online store: La La Lollipop and the complimenting blog: That's Sew La La.

It's still a bit under construction and I have new products added weekly so keep checking back with me. (You will, won't you?)

Please (puh-leeze!) visit and share with your family, friends, co-workers, and anyone who just might be interested.

Also, if you'd like to give me a little advertising via your blog I'll give you a code for your readers to receive 10% off their total order. Woot! Everybody loves a bargain!

Go shop and spread the word (please!).

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Memoirs of a Blazer

Yesterday afternoon J sold his Blazer. I do believe it was a bit bittersweet for him. He spouted off random tidbits of information and lightly suggesting I blog it.

Here I am.

The Blazer was the first car he owned until it was actually paid off rather than trading. He apparently also owned at least two cars at once until the Blazer. I think there was more but I was very interested in my baked potato when he was telling me all of this.

I have my own fair share of memories of the Blazer, hereinout known as B.

The B sure was good to us. Here’s to just as many lovely memories in the new Benz.

(J-feel free to add anything I’ve left out)